


what you got, boy, is hard to find

by tsunderestorm



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: M/M, Recreational Drug Use, Strap-Ons, Trans Genji Shimada
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-09
Updated: 2017-02-09
Packaged: 2018-09-23 02:05:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,631
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9636113
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tsunderestorm/pseuds/tsunderestorm
Summary: Deadlock & Shimada-gumi peace talks are long and arduous and Hanamura might be an unfamiliar city for Jesse, but luckily Genji has the insight on all the best party spots.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [xxFeuerFrei](https://archiveofourown.org/users/xxFeuerFrei/gifts).



> happy (mcgenji) valentine's day, puggy!! I was your backup secret santa and hopefully you never even saw it coming. I went with your partying in Hanamura prompt! (not so secretly partially inspired by [this fanart](http://ghostsjogging-art.tumblr.com/post/152102313249/a-nsfw-thing-that-i-did-deadlockyakuza-au) by ghost.)
> 
> I really hope you enjoy it!

“Howdy, fellas.” Jesse greets; shooting finger guns at the leather-clad, gun-toting Deadlock members and the Shimada family's suited bodyguards in turn. He gets a few scowls, an exasperated sigh from one of his own and it’s no surprise. Everyone is on edge: unsure if they’re going to walk out of this with an alliance or an enemy. The bosses have been in talks for hours again already, day three of hammering out weapons trades and God knows what else.

He may be Deadlock’s little king, but everyone knows it’s in appearance only. So far, the singular fleeting glimpse he's gotten of the elegant room they're holding discussions in has been through a slivered crack as a bodyguard slid the door shut, all furrowed brow and pursed lips. Tired of his antics.

It’s no skin off his nose, honestly – if it means he can grab better food than he’s had in months from a vendor and roam the streets, it’s probably for the better. Hell, if he could find a way to drag out the business dealings for another day or two he’d bend over backwards to do it. The _real_ reason he’s enjoying his time in Japan hasn’t shown himself yet, undoubtedly still asleep with his pretty face buried in a pillow somewhere, drooling onto it and _that’s_ an endearing thought. Jesse knows full damn well Genji doesn’t rouse himself out of bed until the early afternoon if he can avoid it.

Walking through Hanamura is peaceful: there’s a classic, elegant, feel to it. Picturesque; the kind of beauty that would be on postcards at the truck stop stands littering Route 66. The kind of beauty people want to see in such a desolate place, the kind of beauty he never thought he'd see in person. Later in the afternoon as the city starts to go to sleep, though, it comes to life: reborn as something else entirely. Loud, flashy, fun: the kind of thing his baby lives for, the kind of thing he’s quickly getting accustomed to.

He bribes a Shimada family guard for information on the night’s club of choice. It’s on the west end of Hanamura, hidden behind an unimpressive façade: old, weathered wood and a discreet sign, all things considered. When he’s inside, though, it cracks open like a geode - sparkling and bright, lights glinting like a diamond in the rough.

He scans the room and sees Genji immediately. _Fuck_ , is he a sight for sore eyes. He's like a prince with his retinue of courtiers, commanding the attention of everyone in the room without even trying. There is a man knelt obediently at his feet with Genji's carefully polished shoe atop his thigh and a man whose hair Genji has wound fingers into on the couch beside him, staring hopelessly at him, dreamy.  Desperate for a moment of attention: a glance, a taunt from his bittersweet tongue. Genji doesn't seem affected, as always; a carefully cultivated air of indifference that _almost_ makes Jesse feel bad for them. He's wearing pants that hug his toned legs perfectly, sleek and black and paired perfectly with his silky dress shirt, unbuttoned to show off just a teasing glimpse of his neck, of the littering of gentle bruises that Jesse’s been working on sucking into the tender skin.

Jesse takes a second to appreciate him: just a moment is all he need to let his eyes roam unhindered across his lover’s body, to undress him with his hungry eyes. As he watches, a third man moves to kneel behind the couch Genji's splayed out on and Jesse can see his lips move as he speaks - _Master Shimada -_ as his hands move over Genji's shoulders and rub. As if on command, Genji lets his eyes slide closed and when he opens them, they're focused on Jesse. His pupils are blown, black and infinitely deep; dangerous in the way they’re promising him the time of his life. Genji is a flame and Jesse will beat his wings against the cage for a chance to burn.

He crosses the room full of bravado and pride, a swagger he just can’t shake. (Not that he even tries.) The guys Genji has accumulated scatter when he gets close and there’s a spot next to him made just for Jesse, a spot he slides into easy and smooth and Genji's body molds against his like it was made for it. His bare skin is hot to the touch and when Jesse slides a hand into Genji's carefully styled hair it’s damp under his fingertips, soft when he grabs handfuls to crush their lips together, green silk sliding through his fingertips like a waterfall. Genji’s slippery with sweat from dancing, fragrant with the cologne that works so well on him. A dream.

“I feel like I'm fallin’ for you all over again when you're lookin’ at me like that,” Jesse confesses when they part, draining the shot glass a bartender sets before him in one go. It’s whiskey, a sharp burn that warms his chest as it coils sinuously down into his stomach to join the ever-present build of lust that settles in when Genji's around, especially when he’s watching him from over the rim of his own drink with a look Jesse knows all too well.

Genji leans over until his face is inches from Jesse's, until his hot breath tickles Jesse's lips and then retreats, reaching into the pocket of his pants and pulling out a tiny bag with fine white powder in it. Jesse grins, watching him pick up the compact up off the low table in front of him and flipping it open with an expert movement of his wrist. With fingers circling the lip of it as he smiles, teeth sharp. “Do you want to fall, or do you want to _fly_?”

“Well, I got a sparrow to catch, so I’m guessin’ I should probably pick that second option.” Jesse says as he gestures for another drink. They can’t beat the service in this club, can’t beat the bartenders who jump at the chance to host one of the elite Shimada-gumi. He hasn’t paid for a drink in days.

“Have you ever done this before?” Genji says, rubbing his thumb over the baggie.

Jesse moves in close; laughs low. “Darlin’, you must think I was born yesterday if you think I ain't ever done any blow.”

They both lean in over the tiny compact that Genji holds between them, focused on each other. They could almost kiss: the heat that ripples between them is palpable, searing, and it’s just as much of a rush as the lines of cocaine that flood their systems. Genji's eyes are pitch-black with a ring of molten gold surrounding them, and Jesse doesn't know if it's from the drugs or the desire he can practically smell on him and he doesn’t care.

\--

Jesse is cute when he's high as a kite, Genji quickly decides, the kind of cute that makes his heart ache and his body throb with desire, the kind of cute that makes him want to lay back on the low couch and tug Jesse down with him. Let their hands roam, turn their night up a notch and make it a _real_ party. The club is hot and the press of sweaty bodies is overpowering and the drugs in his bloodstream are coursing, winding like a snake, a _dragon_ , powerful and undeniable. His heart feels like it's hammering out of his chest, thumping a rhythm to match Jesse's - it's so loud that he can hear it over the noises of the club: heavy bass, shouted greetings, squeals of delight.

Genji is acutely aware of the flush all over his body, desperately aware of the heat building between his legs, aware of the solid weight of Jesse’s body behind his own as they move together on the dance floor. He doesn’t know the song, isn't even lucid enough to recognize if it's in Japanese or English or some other language he doesn't know, just knows that it feels good and it's easy to get their hips moving to. Jesse's not that great of a dancer, admittedly - Genji will tease him for that later, when he isn't so high, isn't so keyed up he feels like even the dance of Jesse's fingertips over his hips could make him come - but he makes up for it in eagerness, makes up for it with the way he rumbles compliments in his ear as their bodies grind out a rhythm.

 “You can play, cowboy,” Genji says when they take a break and fall back together on the couch, letting his legs relax and fall open, letting Jesse's big hand snake beneath his waistband to drag across his crotch. “But I'm calling the shots tonight. You're in my domain now.”

He can feel the way Jesse's heartbeat quickens through every part of his body when he says it, can feel his pulse in the thick column of his dick when he unhooks his buckle and slides a hand inside. He doesn’t take him out, just palms over it, watches the way Jesse’s head tips back and he begs “ _please,_ Genji _,”_ doesn’t miss the way he says “Want you to call the shots.”

Genji leans in close and nips at Jesse’s ear, nuzzles down into the stubble on his jaw, laughing. “Do you want me to fuck you, Jesse?”

Jesse nods, and desperate desire cuts through Genji sharper than any blade and he moves to straddle his thigh, rutting down against him, desperate for friction. It’s moving too fast for their surroundings and he can’t bring himself to care, not when they have their own corner of heaven in the back of the club, sprawled out on couches. Not giving a shit who could see, _daring_ someone to try and stop them. All he can think of is how much he'd like to take Jesse apart right _here_.

When the high starts to wane, Genji lays out two more lines - soft, delicate and snowy, crunching like a powder dusting under boots when he stamps them with the edge of his card. One more won't hurt, won't ruin what he knows is coming as soon as they go sneaking past his father's more overzealous guards and stumbling into his room, won't ruin the high better than any drug when they start in on each other.

\--

“Smile, Jesse,” Genji orders, but Jesse doesn't get the chance to do more than let his lips quirk up at the corner before Genji cants his hips forward and the smooth tip of the dildo bumps against them. Jesse's lips part easily, soft and pliant and eager, tongue curling around the blunt head of the toy and all Genji can think is that Jesse looks _good_ with his mouth around a dick. As if he hadn't already wanted to fuck him before, seeing him on his knees with those big dark puppy eyes looking up at him is enough to seal the deal.

“You're so cute,” Genji soothes, hands running through Jesse's messy hair. “Do you like sucking my cock?”

Jesse nods, taking the dildo in deeper, less in his mouth and more down throat. It's thick, unyielding, slick only with his own spit but he’s sucking it like his life depends on it, eyelashes fluttering on his flushed cheeks when he lets his muscles relax to deep-throat it. _Good job_ , _Jesse_ , Genji praises in the way he moves his hand down to cup Jesse’s cheek, the way he smooths his sweaty hair back off his forehead so it doesn’t fall in his eyes, the way he leans into him.

Slowly, Jesse brings a hand to his dick: trapped beneath his jeans and aching, craving attention. He rubs a tight-fisted hand over it and _shudders,_ looks up to meet Genji’s eye and Genji graces him with a nod of approval, an unashamed, indulgent moan as the bob of Jesse’s throat moves the dildo, repositions the thick end of it inside him and makes him squirm. _Fuck_ , that’s good – maybe too good, he decides when his legs threaten to shake. Like hell he’s going to lose on his home turf; over his dead body will he let Jesse be the one to win their little game tonight.

“Play with yourself,” Genji says idly, voice clipped, and Jesse damn near falls over himself popping the button and zipper of his jeans, awkwardly tugging them down and off. His cock is impossibly hard, leaking onto his thigh and Genji sucks in a breath at the sight of it, gifts him with a smile. Just a little smug, a little like he's got Jesse right where he wants him. Genji tosses him some lube and it's second nature, so easy to fall into the routine of making sure his fingers are coated with it before he begins.

Leaning forward so he’s more on his knees, he works a hand behind him, fingers slick and probing at his hole. Genji can tell when he sinks one inside: Jesse gasps, eyes nearly crossed as he sinks the second one in too soon, too impatient, too eager for his own good. Genji shakes his head, pulls back so Jesse can draw in gasping breaths through his pretty, parted lips as he works himself open.

“Easy, cowboy,” Genji says, inflection a parody of some cheesy old movie Jesse had him watch.

“Please, baby…” Jesse begs as he works, nuzzling against Genji’s hip. “Want it real bad. You're gonna give it to me, right?”

Jesse is so _fun_. So easy to take apart with his hands, his mouth, the thick dildo seated low. Just a simple word has him falling to pieces, just a carefully crafted look has Jesse's cock pulsing in his grasp. Genji _aches_ watching him blow the dildo, feels a pang of lust so intense it takes all his effort not to shove Jesse onto his hands and knees right there on the polished floor and fuck him open on it.

Jesse's hand that isn't working thick fingers inside himself is on Genji's leg, torn between trailing his fingernails in gentle scratches up and down his thighs and squeezing when it feels too good. Genji is sure that Jesse has traced every scale of his dragon tattoo with those trigger-calloused fingers, sure he’s kissed each of them in turn and he’s so wet from it that he’s surprised he isn’t really dripping down his thigh for Jesse’s eager tongue.

Jesse tells him “ ‘m ready,” already looking all fucked out and dazed. Genji thinks it must be the drugs; everything is sharper, every feeling more acute, like someone's dialed the sensitivity up to twelve. Jesse climbs onto the low futon, obedient on hands and knees, and when Genji slides up behind him he goes down to his elbows at the first bump of the dildo against his rim. Genji lets some more lube slide from the bottle onto the eager, quivering hole, moves back so he can indulge in the way it drips down his taint and his balls.

“What a sight,” he teases, and Jesse damn near _whines_ when he rubs fingers over his hole, pushing the lube deeper inside of him so the stretch will be easier. With the coke running like wildfire through their veins it's a miracle they're any kind of gentle for any period, a miracle Jesse lets him get half the length of the dildo in before he's fucking back against him. He's gruff, suddenly demanding, teasing: “And here I was, thinkin’ you were gonna be some kinda good lay, pretty playboy prince that you are. You gonna fuck me or not, sweet thing?”

He can play that game, Genji thinks. He moves his hand up Jesse's spine: soft, sweet, rolling his hips slow and easy as his fingers circle each bump of his spine, rub over freckles on the expanse of dark skin. “Hmm, Jesse?”

He works on lulling him into a false sense of security, draping his body over Jesse's, letting his hand hover at the back of his neck before he fists it into Jesse's hair, tugging his head back so he can hiss into his ear: “Don't mess with me, cowboy,” as he snaps his hips forward with enough force to make both of them shudder, a sound of skin on skin so sharp and loud he hears it even through his heartbeat thundering in his ears.

He can't think of anything else but the desperate desire to _prove himself_ , the undeniable need to fuck his boyfriend until he can't play their games, to fuck him until they're both dizzy and delirious. He gives him more and more, gives until there's nothing left and the way Jesse rocks his hips back is too good. Every jerk and shudder moves the dildo inside of him and he grunts in tune with Jesse's, lets the sounds tumble out of his lips unhindered and hopes like hell the guards hear him fucking outside his door, hopes like hell they wish they had something even half as great. It's not like it's anything new, anyways.

His heart is hammering in his chest and he feels like he could take on the world, feels like he could fuck Jesse until he's crying and still want _more_. Jesse's whining out one hungry moan after another, mashing his face into the unmade sheets of Genji's futon as Genji fucks him and all Genji can think after a while is _fuck_ , more parties, more coke, more bed full of hot horny boyfriend. Between the desperation and the drugs it's rushed, hurried, both of them chasing another kind of high as he fucks into him.

Genji's hand finds an easy spot on the small of Jesse's back, fingers rubbing over crisscrossing scars and the Deadlock tattoo; digs his blunt nails in until Jesse hisses as he’s railing him. He knows Jesse wouldn’t mind if he made him bleed, left a line of four parallel scratches on his sweat-slick back but neither of them is in it to hurt. Jesse's incoherent, his confident drawl given over to a slew of pet names mingling with desperate gasps: _darlin’, honey, baby. Genji, please._

Genji gives up some of his control when he gets close, fucking into Jesse with less finesse, hips rocking so the dildo bumps up against his swollen clit and he can feel the erratic way Jesse's hand is working over his cock, working on dragging them both over the edge. When they do it’s like the world explodes around them, like they’ve taken on and defeated it with the force of what they have, the force of how hard they can make each other come.

“I won't let Deadlock have you back,” Genji says as he pulls out slow, laughing low and quiet in his throat at the way Jesse's body doesn't want to give it up, the way his slick rim seems to pout at the loss of it. Gently, be reaches across Jesse’s sweaty, hairy back, dangling off the bed and grabbing his cigarettes and lighter out of his pants pocket. Pinching it unlit between his teeth, he unsnaps the harness snug around his hips, pulls his end of the dildo out with a too-stimulated shudder and tosses them with their discarded clothes as Jesse rolls over onto his back to look at him. He looks great, all lazy and dazed, fucked half-stupid and the subtle tilt of his head says _Oh yeah?_

“I don't care where these alliance talks lead, you're staying here.” Genji is insistent, flicking the old lighter so it flares to life and ignites the cigarette. They aren't his favorite brand but they're Jesse's, reminding him of the way his boyfriend always smells: like gun polishing oil and cheap truck stop smokes.

Jesse grabs one of his own from the pack and sheltering his lighter’s delicate flame with his hands he lights it, leaning in for a cigarette kiss that makes Genji roll his eyes playfully as his mouth widens into a smile. “You gonna fight for me, sweet thing? Keep me hidden away here?”

“Fuck, no,” Genji says. “Fight for you, yes. Hide you? No. Just imagine it: you and I, celebrities in the Hanamura club scene...we'll be famous after a while, you know. I’m already halfway there. People _know_ me.”

Jesse laughs and takes a drag, blowing it out slow and lazy before he sits up enough to grab his shirt to wipe himself up. There's lube and cum coating his thighs and he feels like he's drenched in sweat and they’re already going to play hell sleeping in a clean spot of the sheets tonight.

“A yakuza prince and a cowboy criminal, huh?” he asks. “We'd be a real pair.”

Genji puts his cigarette out barely half-smoked in the elegant ceramic ashtray he stole from some fancy club and nuzzles into Jesse's neck, rubbing his hands over his hairy chest that's still rising and falling with labored breath. Still high, not ready to come down.

“Hmm, wouldn't we?” he muses as he kisses over his shoulder, sucks a bruise onto Jesse's neck, just below his ear - one to match his own. “Just imagine...we could fuck like this every night, not have a care in the world....”

Jesse's moan is a low rumble: “I like the sound of that,” muffled into Genji's temple when he turns to kiss him. They still smell like smoke and cologne, like sweat and sex and they’re both dreading the end of the peace talks, dreading the end of their all-day sleep and all-night parties. “Maybe I’ll just never leave.”

Bratty as he is and half asleep besides, Genji says “I already told you I wasn’t letting you.”

 


End file.
